The Valiant One
by munchkindelite
Summary: This is a Raoul fanfic, but it does not display Raoul in a negative way. It simply tells the tale from what I would imagine to be his point of view. I hope that this is an improvement from the past Phantom of the Opera fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

The Valiant One- a Raoul Fanfic

Back story: This tells the original story of The Phantom of the Opera from the point of view of Sir Vitcome de Changy, casually known as Raoul. I am a supporter of the Vitcome, and I'm a bit annoyed with all the anti-Raoul fanfics out there. The following does not bash Raoul, but it does not obsess over him. I hope you enjoy this fanfic. Many were unsatisfied with my last one, which was a Mary Sue of the sorts and lacked in depth and perception. I have attempted to dig deeper, and if anyone has tips, please let me know. I want a well-rounded review. If you do not enjoy this fanfic, explain in detail what I need to improve.

Disclaimer: I think it should be pretty apparent by now that I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. I cannot take credit for the fabulous work of Sir Gaston Leroux, though I wish I could.

Final Note: I apologize for any lack of accuracy in this fanfic. I have only seen the movie of this masterpiece, with little knowledge of the original novel in its entirety.

The Valiant One

I glanced inquisitively upon the opera stage, curious to see if the show would continue with its successes now that new managers have been admitted. Something about the opera swept me up in a magical world where I could become entirely engrossed in the resonance of song. My focused remained on an attractive girl singing a beautiful aria, and I felt as if I had seen this beautiful young woman before. I turned to the gentleman to my left.

"Pardon me, Monsieur, do you know the name of the lady who is singing that beautiful aria?"

"Aye, Monsieur, that's Christine Daae. She's a promising talent, no doubt."

Christine Daae! I remembered her plainly. Her voice began to reverberate in one pristine note above the rest. I applauded in awe of the talented young woman she had become.

As the Opera resumed, I examined the other scenes less directly, and my mind became fixed on the image of Christine. I was determined to see her again, but the Opera seemed perpetual. When the last scene had ceased and the curtain lowered, I hurried backstage to catch a glimpse of Christine once more. She was sitting on her knees with a look of gratitude in her eyes. It appeared as if she were thanking the heavens above for being sanctified with such a chance to sing at the most elite opera house in France.

I wanted to choose my words wisely. This was the first I've seen of Christine in years, and I wanted my return to be a joyous one. Suddenly, I remembered the tale of "Little Lotte," the tale that her father used to tell her about an angel of music. She turned in eager surprise to face me, and she continued to recite the story as we looked into each other's eyes amorously. I was falling in love once again.

The moment came when Christine and I needed to depart from the small corridor where we met. Public was waiting to be accosted. Nevertheless, she gazed in trepidation at the room around her. I agreed to give her a moment, but she insisted that I resume without her. I was confused about what was occurring, but I obeyed her wishes. After I closed the door, I heard her call my name, so I attempted to re-enter. Unfortunately, the door was locked. I stood there for a moment, waiting for her to open the door, but I heard no response. What echoed in my ears, however, was the sound of singing. Not Christine's singing, but the sound of a man. Instantly, I was curious. I struck the door once again, but I was left to linger.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is underway! I'm not dead, despite what you may have assumed. I think that I'm going to delete my other story altogether and just work on this one. I'm a bit rusty, so any suggestions to spruce it up would be deeply appreciated.

Chapter Two

After trying to comprehend the muffled sound of both Christine and this man's voices, I was left in such a state of curiosity and pensive thought to discover who the man was. While passing the hallways, I approached Mame Giry, who, after growing up in the opera house, had a notion of everything that occurred within the building's walls. Mame treated Christine as if she were her own daughter, which gained a great deal of respect and appreciation for her.

"Mame Giry, there is a matter we must discuss." I tried to seem professional and maintain my composure despite the outlandish voice that continued to echo through my head. I straightened my collar repeatedly out of nervousness, which Mame Giry noticed without delay.

"Monsieur, I think the collar is straight enough," she commented and smiled sympathetically. "What troubles do you face?"

"I know you may think I'm mad, but I was almost certain that I had heard a voice in Christine's dressing room."

"Her voice teacher, no one else." I realized, however, that there was a hesitation to her voice. It had almost appeared as if Mame Giry were hiding a deep, dark secret from me.

"Are you most certain? I've often wondered if this 'angel of music' of which she speaks would be voice behind that door. She warned me that the angel of music was strict, and that she had been visited by him many times."

Mame Giry sighed. Avoiding eye contact, she said, "Yes, Monsieur Victome." She led me into her chamber to retrieve a letter stamped with what appeared to be a bloody skull. She insisted that I read the letter, explaining salaries and the emptying of box five, and I replied, perplexed, "O.G.?"

"Opera Ghost. The Phantom of the Opera. He has been part of this opera house for many years. Those years, he'd found music to be his one escape from a pitiless world of oppression. He was forced to wear a mask to cover veined, yellow skin and black holes used as eyes, to avoid humiliation. Here he has remained to this day: waiting for the world to become compassionate. To this day, he gives people the maltreatment that they gave him."

"Where does he reside within these walls?"

"I cannot inform you. It would be far too dangerous."

"I can handle danger, Madame."

"Not this kind of danger. Best you stay here. Your life, and Christine's, may depend on it."


End file.
